Big Questions, Irrational Solutions

Friendslist, help. I think, perhaps, that going into medicine, and becoming a surgeon, because I want so badly to cut people open, is a bad idea? Right?

Law is fun, I will get to investigate, read and bicker professionally. I can cut things open in my spare time (what can you do that involves scalpels and forceps (and rib-spreaders!), legally and non-professionally?). This was all brought on by too much coffee and too little food (Kristine, you ought to have been here to keep me company), and some wonderful pictures of an operation.

Katrine plied me with irrational arguments. The people I study medicine with are likely to be boring, and there will be a majority of 'nice girls'. I will not have free time in the foreseeable future, if ever. I will work odd and inconvenient hours, and I will likely earn less. Law means likely more varied people, better income. And this is where we went off the rails: law means wearing suits, and I can wear Louboutins in court. Medicine means scrubs and white coats. (I did say she we were irrational.)

And I have other updates, as well, but I'll split that into another post. So as to better spam your friends lists, of course.

Big Questions, Irrational Solutions

Friendslist, help. I think, perhaps, that going into medicine, and becoming a surgeon, because I want so badly to cut people open, is a bad idea? Right?

Law is fun, I will get to investigate, read and bicker professionally. I can cut things open in my spare time (what can you do that involves scalpels and forceps (and rib-spreaders!), legally and non-professionally?). This was all brought on by too much coffee and too little food (Kristine, you ought to have been here to keep me company), and some wonderful pictures of an operation.

Katrine plied me with irrational arguments. The people I study medicine with are likely to be boring, and there will be a majority of 'nice girls'. I will not have free time in the foreseeable future, if ever. I will work odd and inconvenient hours, and I will likely earn less. Law means likely more varied people, better income. And this is where we went off the rails: law means wearing suits, and I can wear Louboutins in court. Medicine means scrubs and white coats. (I did say she we were irrational.)

And I have other updates, as well, but I'll split that into another post. So as to better spam your friends lists, of course.

To Infinity, and Beyond!

My university has a 'buddy system', to make the transition into student life easier. It means that experienced drunks/students sign up to show people how not to drown in the big city. We all signed up for it, Anette and I as a team of two. Two people are supposed to take care of 10 new students. But, that is not how things are done at the Faculty of Humanity, and certainly not at the EURAM program. These new students were at some point dubbed 'children', I'm sure they will love it.

We do it the Humanist way. Faculty prejudice claims that humanists are scatterbrained, albeit fairly clever and never plan anything. And it is generally true for all of us. We deal with things as they come along, in order of random priority. Our program has 450 new students, and 20 buddies. 20, when 6 do not show up, 4 people volunteer on the spot, and 2 randoms are coerced into helping. Which means if we are lucky we get 20 children to take care of, 35 if we are not.

The leaders, in their infinite wisdom, decided that we meet in a campus garden (named after the most obnoxious man in Norwegian history, Ivar Aasen) 30 minutes before the children arrive.. The buddies then hold signs, handmade of course, up in the air and let their children flock to them. We're supposed to keep count, and move somewhere to do introductions when we have 30-35 children to take care of.

All of this collides nicely with two other meetings we, as buddies, are supposed to attend. Are (Kristine's boyfriend, 'Are' is indeed his name) figures we will need vuvuzelas to make people shut up and gather round. I am opting for heels, a temper, being an insufferable loudmouth. If that doesn't work, I intend to glare at them over my glasses. Then someone climbs on a table, screams at people to shut up, and ask that they raise their hands according to what they think they'd like to major in. What they think they would like. I am not joking.

It is all a logistical vortex. And I am not fit for dealing with those. Cunning plan: get them drunk. Make them share embarrassing moments, ensuring complicity: friendships need drunken earnestness, if we fast-forward them there they must be friends. Cunning!

To Infinity, and Beyond!

My university has a 'buddy system', to make the transition into student life easier. It means that experienced drunks/students sign up to show people how not to drown in the big city. We all signed up for it, Anette and I as a team of two. Two people are supposed to take care of 10 new students. But, that is not how things are done at the Faculty of Humanity, and certainly not at the EURAM program. These new students were at some point dubbed 'children', I'm sure they will love it.

We do it the Humanist way. Faculty prejudice claims that humanists are scatterbrained, albeit fairly clever and never plan anything. And it is generally true for all of us. We deal with things as they come along, in order of random priority. Our program has 450 new students, and 20 buddies. 20, when 6 do not show up, 4 people volunteer on the spot, and 2 randoms are coerced into helping. Which means if we are lucky we get 20 children to take care of, 35 if we are not.

The leaders, in their infinite wisdom, decided that we meet in a campus garden (named after the most obnoxious man in Norwegian history, Ivar Aasen) 30 minutes before the children arrive.. The buddies then hold signs, handmade of course, up in the air and let their children flock to them. We're supposed to keep count, and move somewhere to do introductions when we have 30-35 children to take care of.

All of this collides nicely with two other meetings we, as buddies, are supposed to attend. Are (Kristine's boyfriend, 'Are' is indeed his name) figures we will need vuvuzelas to make people shut up and gather round. I am opting for heels, a temper, being an insufferable loudmouth. If that doesn't work, I intend to glare at them over my glasses. Then someone climbs on a table, screams at people to shut up, and ask that they raise their hands according to what they think they'd like to major in. What they think they would like. I am not joking.

It is all a logistical vortex. And I am not fit for dealing with those. Cunning plan: get them drunk. Make them share embarrassing moments, ensuring complicity: friendships need drunken earnestness, if we fast-forward them there they must be friends. Cunning!